


Hidden Oasis

by ChillsofFire



Series: MegOp Week 2020 [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Relationship, dragonformers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22156123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillsofFire/pseuds/ChillsofFire
Summary: Optimus ventures into forbidden lands, and finds himself in the care of a stranger.
Series: MegOp Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593238
Kudos: 47
Collections: MegOP Week 2020





	Hidden Oasis

**Author's Note:**

> I plan on continuing this story eventually, the ideas that formed as I was writing this for MegOp week were just too much to contain in one story. Not Rated because I don't know where it will end up leading, and I'd rather be safe than sorry!

The scent that invaded his olfactory sensors was wrong. It wasn’t the scent that came from cool crystal or heated metal, nor was it the scent of mesh-moss and alumi-grasses. It smelt much less alive. It smelt almost like…

 _Rust-sand._ His mind supplied the answer slowly. That was it. Rust-sand, and stale energon from a prey animal he couldn’t quite place.

And another dragon.

That scent registered last, and Optimus tried to jolt himself to alertness, needing to know who was near him.

He regretted moving as soon as his head lifted from the hard packed ground; pain lanced through him, dragging spots across his already blurred vision.

“Stay still,” a deep voice growled at him, “you’ll cause more damage.”

Optimus felt his plating flare in mild warning. He didn’t recognize that voice.

“Who are you?” His own voice sounded rough, even to his own audials, but it was steady.

“I am the one who saved your life,” something–some _one_ –shifted, and the ground shook slightly under their weight. “Few are bold enough to challenge Blackout. You fought well, for a dragon of the forests.” 

Optimus blinked, partly in a bid to clear his vision and make sense of the large blur of gray before him, partly in utter confusion.

Fighting? A challenge? What was this stranger…

And suddenly he remembered; venturing farther than he should have from safe territory, the curiosity that had bloomed in his spark, the desire to see the stretches of desert land his clan was always warned to stay away from. He remembered following a strange creature, one that seemed not to have limbs of any kind, as it had tried to escape into a pile of dull red boulders. He remembered the scent of prey and energon. And he remembered the angry roar that had soon followed the scent, the flash of dark plating as a dragon erupted from somewhere unknown. He remembered furious attacks raining down on him, and then…it all became a muted blur.

“I was not aware I was challenging anyone,” Optimus blinked again, and the splotches of color and motion began to sort themselves into recognizable shapes.

The first thing he noticed was the darkness, and the close confines of the den he laid in. Dim sunlight poured down through a hole that served as the entrance. Underground then, that was new.

The second thing he noticed was the size of the dragon that had, apparently, saved his life. Optimus was no small dragon, but even from where he rested he could tell that the stranger stood taller than him. His plating was a dull silver, with spots of purple on the insides of his forelegs, along the back of his rear legs, and on either side of his abdomen. A layer of plating on his forelegs flared outward, forming sharp, almost blade-like edges. His chest was wide, the armor there thick and curling out and up, protecting the joint of his shoulder while still leaving room for movement. His snout was on the short side, and more square than Optimus’ own, with thick armor plates that covered his cheeks and lower jaw. Piercing red optics watched him from under strong optical ridges, and two sturdy horns adorn his head. He was built like a natural fighter, radiating danger even as he appeared relaxed.

“I was merely observing,” Optimus met his host’s optics, determined not to be intimidated by his form.

“Yes, I was told you were entranced by a razor snake.”

“Is that was that was?” Optimus lifted his head again, slowly this time, and began to take stock of the damage that had been done to him.

Claw marks crisscrossed his hips, Optimus remembered the pain that had come when he’d attempted to put distance between himself and his attacker. The blue plating there was scratched and dirtied, still stained with his own energon. There were a few marks on his back, where blue and red met gray. His chest and shoulders had taken the worst of it, as the dragon had come from his front, and rough welded lines covered his red armor. A dull throbbing told him there were injuries on his neck, and one audial fin protested vehemently when he attempted to shift it.

What worried him most was the state of his left wing. Scratched and bitten, the thin metal webbing looked worse than he’d ever seen it, and there was a crudely constructed brace that kept him from extending it out fully. Flying was not something he would be doing any time soon.

Optimus forced himself to keep calm. The situation screamed danger, but there was no sense in losing his head right now.

“Did you do this?” He lifted a black paw, delicately brushing a claw across one of the weld lines. It was not neat or even, like those that would come from his clan’s healer, but it was strong, and seemed to be doing its job.

“Not my best work,” The dragon tilted his head. Optimus got the impression that he was examining the patch up, and appreciated the fact that he was keeping his distance, “but it’s holding you together.”

“Many thanks,” Optimus looked back at him, sincere in his gratitude. “If I may ask, why did you not have your healer tend to me?”

The dragon snorted, an amused smirk curling over his mouth, “I have no healer. I suppose I could have waited for Knock Out to make his rounds, but it may be many lunar cycles before he returns.”

“No healer?” Optimus felt his optical ridges furrow. Who was this Knock Out? “You allow a rogue to tend to your clan?”

The next snort was closer to a full laugh, and the silver dragon shook his head, “You forest dwellers…I have no clan. _We_ have no clans. There is no space for them out here. If Knock Out is a rogue, then so am I, so is Blackout, and Soundwave, and all the others who exist here.”

“No clans?” Optimus felt more confused than he would have liked, “Who tends to you when you are ill? Or injured? Who helps you when prey is hard to find?”

“Out here, we rely on no one. We live, or we die. If you are lucky, you find a nest-mate for a season or two. If you are more than lucky, you find a bond-mate.”

Optimus blinked, utterly shocked. Life alone, without his clan, without a friend, it seemed unimaginable. “That sounds like a lonely way to live.”

The dragon shrugged one massive shoulder, “It is how we survive.” He turned his attention behind him, toward the entrance of the den.

“Night is about to fall. Stay here, or risk tearing your wounds open again.”

With that he turned, ready to make his exit.

“Where are you going?”

“Hunting. It’s cooler at night.” And then the dragon was gone, and Optimus was left alone.

-

It wasn’t easy to sleep in the strange underground den; everything smelled wrong, the nest was harder and colder than he was used to, and it was much too quiet. The forests that made up his home came alive at night, filling with the singing of gem beetles, the calls of the night loving glow-birds, and winds brushing through the delicate tin leaves of the trees. The desert was much more still, and any sounds that did come were sudden and jarring, more so because of the way his systems sat, on edge and alert.

But Optimus must have drifted off at some point, because the dragon’s return surprised him, jolting him awake with the sound of scraping claws and the scent of a fresh caught meal.

The dragon met his optics, noticing immediately that he was alert. In his jaws he held something that looked similar to the mech-deer Optimus knew, but it was smaller, a little more slender, and the antlers on its head were simple twists of metal.

The creature was tossed toward him, unceremoniously, and the dragon turned back to the entrance, busying himself with something just out of Optimus’ sight.

Optimus sniffed curiously at the animal, silent as he waited. It seemed a meager meal for the both of them, it was small even for one of them alone, but he was not about to complain.

The dragon finished what he was doing, lowered himself back into the den completely, and turned back to Optimus. One optical ridge arched.

“Eat.”

Optimus tilted his head, “Did you not want the first bite?”

The look that crossed the dragon’s face could only be described as confused, and when he spoke his words were slow, as if he were explaining a simple concept to a youngling, “That is for you. Eat.”

 _For me?_ Optimus looked at the animal in front of him, the conversation from earlier repeating in his head. Of course. Loner dragons. It made sense that they would not have a ritual of sharing meals.

Optimus set a paw on the creature, pulling it closer as he lowered his head. His throat clicked, and he opened his mouth slightly as warmth danced across his glossa.

The massive silver paw slamming over his snout was more shocking than painful, but it drew a startled yelp from him regardless, and Optimus yanked his head back with an alarmed snort, plating flaring.

“What are you doing?” The dragon snarled, looking at him as if he were glitched.

“Scorching it,” Optimus didn’t understand why that was so surprising. Heating the frame kept the metal from rusting and becoming inedible. It made the meals last longer, should they need to be saved, and brought out hidden flavors.

“Do you want to die of dehydration?” The dragon kept his paw where it had landed, between Optimus and the meal he was now being denied. “Scorching eliminates coolant reserves, and dries up its life-blood. You will not find any rivers here to replace them.”

Optimus looked back at the animal, ruffled plating beginning to settle. He hadn’t considered the dryness of the desert. It wasn’t something his clan had to be concerned with.

_How does anyone survive out here?_

The dragon scoffed, rolling his optics as he stepped back to allow Optimus access to his meal again, “Had I known keeping you alive would be such a challenge, I might have reconsidered intervening.”

“Why did you?” Optimus dragged the frame closer to him, perhaps a little more quickly than necessary. “If it truly is every dragon for themselves, why did you help me?”

“Outsiders rarely venture into our lands. Your presence caught my attention,” The dragon sat on his haunches, “Though it was your fighting that impressed me. I can always respect a good warrior. It may not look like it from what you see, but you gave as good as you got. If Blackout still has both optics the next time I cross paths with him, I will truly be amazed.”

Optimus tilted his head, a thought suddenly crossing his mind. He flicked his optics over the dragon’s form again, searching.

“I see no wound on you. From what you have said, I cannot believe this Blackout was happy about you intervening.”

The dragon grinned ever so slightly, and Optimus caught a flash of large fangs, “Blackout knows better than to stand against me.”

Optimus paused, regarding his host carefully.

“Do I get to know the name of my rescuer?”

The dragon raised his head, his wings flaring just enough to be noticeable, “My name is Megatron. What does your _clan_ call you?”

“Optimus,” Optimus mimicked Megatron’s movements, raising his head and squaring his shoulders as best he could, “My name is Optimus.”

“Well, Optimus,” Megatron raised a paw to his face, examining the energon on his claws, “You are free to attempt to return to your lands whenever you please. But I suggest you get comfortable here. Your injuries will take time to heal, and you will not get far in your state.”

Optimus looked at his injured wing. Megatron had a point. His wounds made him an easy target, and without the ability to fly, he would be at a severe disadvantage in any fight. Staying in a strange den in unfamiliar territory, under the care of a dragon he did not know, was not something he was entirely thrilled about, but the alternative was facing the unforgiving desert alone, with no real sense of where he was.

Optimus looked back to Megatron, who seemed to already know what Optimus was going to decide to do. He was cleaning his claws, attention no longer focused on his guest. When he caught a glimpse of Optimus watching him, he gave him no chance to speak, instead nodding back at the animal that was sitting ignored under Optimus’ paw.

“ _Eat._ No scorching.”

His tank clenching distracted Optimus from responding. Instead he nodded, then lowered his head to bite into cold plating.

Something told him he was going to need his strength.


End file.
